Harry Potter & The Art of Love Volume One
by Allen Declan Harding
Summary: Welcome to Volume One of Harry Potter & The Art of Love. Harry's quarrels with love with various girls, all stories of which share no continuity or connection. These one-shots are not weak or short romance pieces, instead fleshed out scenario's from archived plots that never came to fruition. 1. Hermione. 2. Fleur. 3. Nymphadora. 4. Daphne. 5. TBD. 6. TBD. 7. TBD. One-Shots:3/7.
1. Table of Contents

Welcome to **Harry Potter & The Art of Love Volume One**.

All these one-shots are essentially old story ideas, converted into a 3.5k minimum romance fluff. So you'll find a lot of exposition of the world they live in, which is not too different from canon. A little original content and events here and there, but only to make sense of the relationship being where it is.

They were story ideas that never came to fruition, but I don't want it to go to waste so I'm making one-shots out of them. There will only be **seven** one shots per volume, each with a different pairing. The readers are entirely capable of swaying their preference my way so long as it abides to the following rules:  
Harry Potter  
M/F  
No Slash  
No Ginny (sorry but I can't do it, personal preference)  
(Optional) Plot

If one of these stories something get a lot of attention, then I'll look into expanding it into a real story.

 **Table of Contents:**

 **1\. Harmony in the Evening** \- _Hermione Granger_  
Harry Potter returns from another detention with Umbridge, and Hermione is there, once again, for him. With the sudden urge to act, there's a little harmony arising this evening as Hermione learns to be selfish for once.

 **2\. Better than the Yule Ball** \- _Fleur Delacour_  
Caught eavesdropping on Snape's conversation with Draco after Slughorn's party leads Harry into a confrontation he didn't expect to have. Will he be able to look past his own internal obstacles and forward. Maybe just one dance can change that...

 **3\. Companions** \- _Nymphadora Tonks_  
Harry and the trio split when Tonks came to their aid, leaving Harry with a new companion. He learns how to blend in with his new cover and how to handle a new form of teasing from his partner. But Tonks' intentions may not be as clear as Harry thinks.


	2. 1 - Harmony in the Evening (Hermione)

**1\. Harmony in the Evening (Hermione)**

'Mimbulus Mimbletonia,' Harry mumbled with his head down and hands clenched. The fat lady, who sat had been napping in her frame, rose to attention and looked towards the boy-who-lived.

'I'm sorry dear, could you repeat yourself please,' she asked sweetly. A sweet tone that rivalled that of the pink toad, though vastly different, was enough to bring about further sour thoughts about the Ministry's hand, whom he had already been fuming over.

'Mimbulus Mimbletonia. I'm really not in the mood,' he warned. The scar on the back of his hand reddening and stinging with the tightness of his fist.

'All right, watch your tone...' the painting began to swing open, so Harry backed up, careful not to bump the Lions stacked up behind him down the stairway. Soon the door to the Gryffindor common room was open, and Harry stepped in, gesturing his crowd to follow suit.

Suffice it to say, Harry was angry, angrier than he'd ever felt about the new Headmistress. It wasn't about her denying his claims about the return of the Dark Lord, or refusing to allow him to participate in this year's Quidditch season, or even about the scars on the back of his left hand, that have been written over more than seven times now. No, it was far worse.

'Harry!' A familiar voice exclaimed from the other side of the common room. Her voice brought about untold amounts of relief in his system to challenge the tension and rage that had built up since leaving the detention hall. He felt his hand loosen up as his gaze fell on the bushy haired bookworm who had dropped her quill, narrowly missing the parchment that contained several lines of her potions homework, to run over to him.

As she closed in, her eyes fell on the first year girl who had the end of Harry's sleeve in her grasp and tugging. To which Harry responded with a soft smile before turning back to Hermione.

'Uhm...are they first years?' Hermione guessed, assuming their height and younger faces. Harry nodded to answer her.

'We're they lost?' She asked, continuing her assumptions. It wasn't the first time that first years had gone to Harry Potter when they were lost or scared.

'Umbridge...' was all Harry gave her. It only took her two to three seconds for her eyes to widen and her eyebrows shoot up, then suddenly furrowing.

'That bitch...' she cursed, walking around Harry to stand by the pair of first years that Harry had picked up. One first-year boy and first-year girl, who appeared to be friends due to their closeness and reassuring looks they kept giving each other. They had their robe sleeves pulled, leaving their robes askew, but in the trade to have their scarred hands hidden. It was only up close that she was able to see their tear-stricken faces, their eyes red and dry.

Hermione stood up from her leaning stance to put an arm around the shoulder of the girl, gently pulling to bring her towards the couches by the fireplace of the common room. The boy looked at Harry, at which he nodded and walked over to him to put a hand on his back, making to follow his best friend.

The two fifth years remained at the foot of the couch facing the fire after they sat the two first years down. Then Hermione drew her wand to do her best to tend to the pain on the back of the first year girl's hand.

'Is she the healer of the trio?' The boy asked, somewhat enthusiastic, his eyes filled with wonder as he offered the question to Harry. It wasn't the first time they were called "the trio", but it was the first time he'd ever been asked about the trio.

The mild objectification aside, Hermione looked to Harry to ask with her aggressive chocolate eyes "What Am I, Harry? Hmm?". Harry smiled widely for the first time since returning and answered.

'Sort of,' he continued quickly 'She's a lot more than that. Healing just so happens to be something else she's brilliant at for her year, mainly because I'm awful at taking care of myself and I need a girl like her to save me,' he looked towards her with a cheeky grin, checking to see if he was satisfied with his answer. Thankfully, she was, and she also began blushing with a smile, so she faced away and continued to tend to the girl's hand.

'That's so cool!' The first year boy went, surprising both Harry and Hermione. Harry decided to jump on this, to keep the smile on Hermione's lips.

'I know, she is,' he clapped, figuring out what to talk about 'You know the story of the Basilisk?'

'Yeah! I heard rumours that you fought it!' The boy's enthusiasm peaked, and it also acquired the attention of the first year girl who appeared unfazed up till now.

'That's right. The reason I even managed to survive was entirely thanks to this lady right here,' he said, pointing at his best friend 'and she spent the entire battle in the Hospital wing.'

The storytelling was enough to arouse the attention of a few second years who were on the other couch reading, and the awe was spread.

'Harry...' Hermione moaned, only to get interjected by said individual.

'That's the power of knowledge you guys, and just as one of the greatest Aurors of our time told me "Strength can destroy an enemy, but knowledge can destroy entire armies".'

There were resounding "oohs" and "whoas" around the couches, bringing attention to the crowd that they had garnered. Hermione tried to speak up to shift the credit, as she usually would, but Harry wasn't having any of it. He wanted everyone who looked up to him, who viewed him as a hero, to view her in the same light.

'Because Merlin knows she deserves it,' Harry ended. Hermione had long since finished tending to the two first year's hands.

'That feels much better, thank you, Miss Granger,' the girl nervously thanked standing up.

'Yeah! Thanks, Miss Granger!' The boy chimed, and before she could correct them, the boy dragged the girl off, and he began to talk with similar enthusiasm about something else, probably another one of Harry's ventures.

'Good work, _Miss Granger_ ,' Harry teased, his grin never wavering as she slapped the back of his shoulder before taking a seat on the couch in front of them. The crowd dispersed a while ago, leaving the two alone in front of the fireplace. It was growing late, so people were heading to bed, as they should.

Hermione groaned when Harry took the seat next to her, annoyed at the number of times that she was interrupted and stopped from talking overall.

'Why didn't you let me speak...?'

'Because if I'd let you, you would try to "correct" me,' Harry answered, gesturing quotation marks.

'Yeah, exactly.'

'Exactly,' he repeated 'That would have been lying, and in case you forgot,' he raised his left hand to show her the lettered scar 'I will not tell lies,' said Harry, sporting another crooked smile. He found himself wincing as she grabbed his left hand and placed it on face down on her thigh.

She cast a cooling charm on the skin where the words lay and muttered a medical-grade numbing charm. It was just a couple of spells Hermione committed to teaching herself when Harry first returned from detention, fearing that it was the first of many sessions with the blood quill.

'You didn't have to do that,' Hermione commented softly, lifting her wand and putting it at her right on the couch, letting it roll down to her thigh with the angle of the cushion she was sitting on.

'And you didn't have to do this,' raising his painless scarred hand before setting it back down on thigh 'but we wanted to.'

Hermione dropped her own hand on top of his to slide her fingers in between his and give it a squeeze. She looked down at it, taking note how his hand was only slightly bigger than hers, and her fingers were longer than most due to her piano lessons. Which made it feel all the more comfortable when she held his hand gently from the back, avoiding the scarred tissue.

'You're as much a hero in this story as I am, whether you like it or not,' Harry said softly 'and if no one believes that, know that you're a hero to me.'

Hermione's lips parted as if to speak, but shut quickly when there were no words she could find to leave them. She tried to look for them, but her mind, as if for the first time, was in disarray and failing her. It frustrated her, not having a clear thought process, thanks to his calm and sweet words. Finally, that thought was enough to help her assemble a sentence.

'Why are you being so sweet all the sudden?' She asked in a whisper, embarrassed to even ask the question, but blushing beet red anyways.

Harry took a few seconds to act like he had to think it over.

'If everything you do makes my life so much brighter, why shouldn't I do my best to do the same to you?'

Hermione's response was similar to that of a fish as her mouth fell open and shut again as she attempted to respond to his bold and shocking claim.

'See! Like that! Why are you doing that?!' Hermione finally lost all sensibility and exclaimed, nearly squealing. She raised her hand to place it on his forehead 'Are you sick? Do you have a fever? Do you need something from me?'

Harry grabbed her hand from his forehead and pushed himself up onto his feet with his other.

'Come on,' he said, gently tugging her hand to get her to stand.

'Where are we going?' She asked, but he didn't answer.

He guided her out the back door of the common room to the outdoor corridor that skirted the edge of the castle next to the Gryffindor tower. The corridor was lengthy and secluded at several angles, making it a prime location for couples to "fool around".

 _Wait..._ Hermione thought in a panic as Harry pulled her along. _Is he..._

'What are you planning, Harry?' He remained silent, which only further sent her heart racing. Her thoughts wandered to Harry picking her up in his arms and having his way, which she didn't doubt he could do. She believed he wouldn't do that, she trusted him to not. He may not look it, but he was strong. Made a laughingstock of Ron when he stuffed his hand in mashed potatoes in an arm wrestle in the Great Hall.

But strength wasn't what she looked for in a partner. Sure, she grew up being read stories like Snow White and Cinderella and watching theatre of those respective stories. There were times when she would ache for a prince-like boy, but she grew up, understanding that the real world was nothing like a children's fairy tale. They couldn't even spell faerie right.

Several years later, we have people in the school, especially the younger years, viewing Harry Potter as a hero on par with Dumbledore and Merlin. They went so far as to nickname him the Prince of Gryffindor, despite his Parseltongue ability.

Not only that, but he continually demonstrated heroic actions and traits. No one could deny it, Dumbledore kept on handing him bucket-loads of house points because of it, and inconsequentially, the house cup.

But that was just the surface, the hero that was forged by rumours and stories. The one that a certain Weasley fell in love with.

'Wait here,' Harry finally said as he looked over the stone railing. He pulled out his holly wand and aimed it high at the Gryffindor tower.

'Accio.' She recognised the spell, after all, she taught it to him during the Triwizard Tournament. So she waited a few seconds, not knowing what to expect other than a broom.

Which was precisely what arrived as a broom descended and picked out of the air by Harry. The look in his eyes as he walked over to her, Firebolt in hand, was enough for her to understand his evil intentions.

'No.'

'Yes.'

'Harry. No.'

'Hermione, yes.' She stomped her foot in frustration.

'Harry, you know that I hate flying,' she crowed, her displeasure quite apparent.

'I vividly remember you smiling when we were on Buckbeak,' Harry added. Truthfully, she did enjoy it, she was okay with it in Hagrid's class, unlike Malfoy, but it was amazing taking to the skies, with her arms squeezing around Harry in a balance of fear and joy.

'Yeah but it's not the same thing.'

'So you trust Buckbeak more than me?' Harry asked, looking distraught.

'No! I trust you more than anyone,' Hermione confessed incidentally, slamming her hands over her mouth. She could feel the red returning to her cheeks.

'So...' he worded, holding his open hand out for her. Hermione felt like she was backed into a corner, she could no longer push him away, but nonetheless, she trusts him, but beforehand...

'No stunts.'

'No stunts,' he repeated.

'Only for a short while.'

'Just a short while.'

That said, Hermione reached forward and took his hand, letting him pull her to him. With little hassle, the pair boarded the broom, Harry insisting Hermione sit in front of him, so he had better control with the stabilisers.

A few moments later, Harry guided the broom to ascend slowly through the open arch over the railing. Hermione leant forward to grip tightly on the broom mainly as a product of her fear, which was overshadowed by the embrace of the pilot, who reached around her waist to grasp the broom.

She shivered initially, the close and intimate closeness of the two. Realistically, it wasn't any closer than any of the heartfelt hugs that she gave him, but to have his chest to her back, and his breath on the back of her neck was enough to make her tremble slightly, which did not go unnoticed.

'You okay Hermione? Is this too high?' Asked Harry, concerned as he pulled on the broom slowly to bring its already slow movement to a gentle halt. Then leaning over her right shoulder to get a peek at her face.

With a warm breath caressing her exposed neck, she trembled once more as what felt like electricity shot down her spine and her head shook, swinging her hair that had been resting over her left shoulder to block him.

'No, no. It's not that,' she replied as she brought her hand to her neck to cover the tingling skin. Harry brushed this aside and looked ahead, his chin over her shoulder. He brought them to the edge of the lake, where the moonlight was but bright reflection off the darkened lake.

'It's beautiful.'

'Yeah. I'm glad we still have this freedom, despite all that's happening, and to be able to have such a beauty, even through all the darkness,' Harry spoke, his tone serene and gentle.

'Yeah...' Hermione agreed, looking out towards the lake before turning to Harry, who had been gazing, not at the lake, but at her. His emerald green eyes uniquely brightened under the moonlight as he looked into hers. Her breathing began to pick up once more as something was tugging at her heart, at her head that made her feel dizzy and breathless.

She'd never felt this way before, the way her mind would find no way to function correctly and logic to have no place in an interaction. But it felt so relieving in a way she couldn't understand, to have this burning connection that made her back straighten and push towards his chest as she subconsciously yearned for more.

'I want to show you something.'

'Wha..yeah...okay,' she finally broke from her trance, her words falling out of her mouth as she collected herself and tucking a curl over her ear.

He had been bringing her around all evening, or at least it felt like all evening. The "short while" she had asked for was probably far off the table.

Harry guided the broom back towards the castle, and they closed in on the familiar Gryffindor tower, but instead of heading towards the tower, he aimed for the stone roof a few metres from the corridor they initially took off from. The roof was flat, allowing for a smooth landing as Hermione placed her feet flat on the ground, followed by Harry's.

With silence between them, Harry strolled over to the stone wall. Calculatedly, Harry placed his hand flat on the wall, and a door manifested itself, similarly to the way that the Room of Requirement doors would take shape.

'Another secret room? Out here?' Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

'I found it on accident after one of my night flights,' he pushed the gothic door open and gestured Hermione in 'Ladies first.'

'Charming,' she commented with a smile, walking through the doorway. When she entered, she was embraced by the warmth of a fire that had just lit itself and was met with a room similar to the size of her dorm room. It looked as if it were a personal bedroom.

'Did this belong to Godric Gryffindor?' Hermione asked, looking at the Gryffindor flags hung on the wall, but that didn't appear to be the case as there were several blue hues mixed in with the red and gold.

Harry shut the door behind him, placed his broom on a stand and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched Hermione walk around in wonder. There were dusty tomes in bookshelves, artefacts on the desk. The collective historical value of the items in this room would likely add up to tens of thousands of galleons.

'Well, partly,' he pointed towards a stack of paintings on the floor against the wall, the top of which was a painting of a Hungarian Horntail.

Hermione walked over to pick the painting up and put it at the side to look at the one behind it.

'No way...' the painting was of Godric Gryffindor standing with a beautiful woman in his arms, dressed in a blue dress and sporting a raven's head necklace.

'I honestly thought the rumour was a joke. Who'd have thought...' Harry continued with a laugh.

'This is amazing...Do you know what this means?!'

'It means that my bedroom is going to be raided by you on the daily?' He joked.

'Your bedroom?' It finally clicked, all those times that Ron was wondering where Harry was going at night, thinking he was breaking curfew by roaming the castle under his invisibility cloak, was actually spent here.

'Being the "Prince of Gryffindor" comes with a few perks I like to think,' Harry joked.

'Harry...You can't do that. We have to-'

'What say we share the room and be done with it?' Harry interrupted with a grin, stepping towards her.

'Wha-'

'You're brilliant, definitely as brilliant as Rowena Ravenclaw herself. I say you're entitled to have this room just as much as I am,' he explained, making sense, in a weird way that made Hermione shake her head for even considering agreeing with him.

'I don't get the chance to be selfish every now and then, same as you. How about we stop being heroes for a while and take what we want right here? I think we earned it.' He was right, he more than her, spent more time suffering for his actions, more than rewarded. Points were great for the house, but the toll that it took on him...

'Furthermore, I think you would like to have a little private study,' then turning to gesture at the tall bookshelf 'with this private collection.' To her, he resembled an enthusiastic salesman. What annoyed her the most was that she found herself wanting to take him up on his offer. He was now standing in front of her as if to jokingly intimidate her.

'Take what we want?' She repeated, avoiding his eyes.

'Mhmm...' Harry sounded, curious as to the tone of her voice.

He was too close to her, not for comfort but for control. She found herself spiralling with his words once again. Even if he hadn't meant it in such a way, her mind had been bent in an unusual direction all evening, leaving interpretation in a flexible position.

'How could you know what I want?'

'Because I know you, Hermione,'

She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers and traced the back of his hand with her thumbs.

'Are you sure about that?'

'Because something tells me that it's similar to what I want,' Harry suggested.

'You know...out there...I wasn't talking about the view,' he added, charmingly as he nervously reached for her cheek with the hand that was in hers.

'Are you sure you're not sick?' Hermione asked once more.

'I like to wonder if I might be dreaming rather...'

With those words, she released his hand and reached for his face, placing a hand on either cheek. Her eyes kept on looking at his, switching between his eyes to check if he was serious, if there was any doubt.

There wasn't.

 _Maybe...just for now...I'll take what I want..._ Hermione thought, pulling him gently while tip-toeing herself.

Her potions homework could wait in the common room...


	3. 2 - Better than the Yule Ball (Fleur)

**2\. Better than the Yule Ball (Fleur)**

'It is an act crucial to success, Draco!' Snape s voice bellowed to the keyhole that Harry had been listening to. The conversation was difficult of too much intrigue that he refused to tear away from it. But the wand poking him in the back through the cloth of the invisibility cloak was enough to startle him.

He found himself facing a silvery blonde-haired woman, dressed in a white jacket and white jeans, so bright that you'd mistake her for an angel. Then she bent over and poked into the cloak again.

''Arry?' The French accent was apparent and through the darkness, enabled him to discover who she was in a second. Before Harry could reply, he heard Snape's conversation end and the footsteps close towards the door. He quickly threw the invisibility cloak over Fleur and pulled her against the wall beside the doorway, telling her to hush as they tried their best to remain silent.

Thankfully, she remained quiet, and as the door opened, Draco was the first to leave in a stomp, followed by Snape, who was suspiciously peering up and down both halls before following the blond Slytherin.

Harry held them still for an extended moment as he watched Snape turn the corner of the corridor, then waiting a few more seconds until he was satisfied.

Letting out a long breath, Harry pulled Fleur into the classroom that he was eavesdropping into and shut the door behind them.

'I'm sorry Fleur,' he apologised, not knowing how else to explain what he was doing.

'Eavesdropping on a professor's private conversation? Not exactly rule breaking but wurz mentioning to my colleagues, I feel,' she responded. Her French accent was still there, but her English has drastically improved since her graduation of Beauxbatons, then taking up an assistant professor role in Hogwarts, thanks to her exceptional skills in Charms.

It was odd for him just as it was strange to be alone in a deserted classroom with an assistant professor that he knew personally and saw as a comrade after participating in the Triwizard Tournament together. They had a connection that they shared with only one other person on the planet.

'I don't think I need to tell you why I hope you don't do that Professor,'

'Well only if you do somezings for me first,' Fleur said in trade.

'All right...'

'First, stop calling me Professor in private 'Arry. We are too close for zat,' she said with her arms crossed.

'Second?' He pushed.

Fleur pushed herself up to sit on the desk in front of Harry.

'Tell me why you are avoiding me,'

Harry took a breath in and shut his mouth. He'd been caught and felt the guilt running through him.

'Ever since I joined as a Professor, you haven't even tried to talk to me. Never asking for help or how I've been...Aren't we friends?' The lady looked distraught, which tore at Harry's heart as he realised the repercussions of his actions.

'Honestly...I thought it would be better for you.' He backed up and took a seat on the edge of a desk across from her 'I can't imagine how hard it might be dealing with the students here, I feel like I'd only add to the trouble by resuming what we had,' Harry explained honestly, though he was giving only part of the truth.

'Do you zink I care about that?' Fleur asked in a mixture of sadness and anger. 'I didn't just come 'ere to be a professor. I came back 'ere to be your friend. I owed you after ze second and zird task.'

A life debt was what Hermione called it. Fleur told him when she was leaving three years ago that she would repay him for all that he's done for her, including saving her in the maze. Harry didn't even try to think of why she came back...

'I came back for you.' It was then that a tear left her eye.

His body moved on its own, taking only two steps to close in on her and unhesitatingly hop onto the desk to sit next to her to wrap his arms around her shoulder.

Harry's guilt was overflowing and went to town on beating himself up internally, berating himself on his selfish actions. To make a lady like her tear up, a woman that he ended up garnering a crush on since the beginning of this year.

It disgusted him, to have such feelings for her, to place himself in the same group of mindless, hormonal teenagers affected by an allure that's as natural to her as breathing.

Fortunately for her, she wasn't introduced alongside Slughorn on the opening feast. But when he saw her again for the first time in years as she entered the Charms classroom on Flitwick's announcement, it unveiled an attraction that surprised him just as much as it horrified him.

The way she held herself, the way she looked at her new students, not as a fellow witch, but as a young woman. Combined with knowing her on a deep and personal level after sending letters to each other frequently for years after the Triwizard Tournament, only to come to a grinding halt after Sirius' death...

With all that, the last thing he wanted to burden on her was more unwanted attention, hence why he backed off when she arrived. He thought she'd want to adjust and get her work done rather than worry about her teenage students.

'I'm sorry,' Harry whispered, pulling her closer to him in an act to comfort her. He truly felt like he betrayed her, thinking of doing good by her. 'I only thought that you didn't want any more attention than you're getting, you know.'

'Can't you see zat I want your attention?' Fleur retorted, her voice cracking in her sorrow 'I am not good at making friends, 'Arry...you mean a lot to me...'

He understood that full well. They were more similar than most would think. They were raised with a label, given attention for things they couldn't help or have any say in, and have that label define that for their entire life.

'I still remember when you invited Hermione and me to the carriage for dinner after the Third Task...' Harry reflected.

That day Ron wasn't able to attend that weekend, much to his dismay. A result of his abysmal grades in Transfiguration and Potions, despite Hermione's pressure.

'Meeting your parents and your little sister properly. Probably one of the most terrifying things in my life...and you know what I've fought,' he ended with a laugh, which he was happy that Fleur joined into softly.

'Your father, I swear, had the most terrifying gaze I've ever seen. Your mother, on the other hand, was lovely. I see where you get it...'

Madam Apolline Delacour had the most youthful, womanly look he's ever seen. He may not have met a lot of mothers, but if he did, he was confident in stating that they wouldn't look anything like her.

Then when he finally saw Fleur enter the Charms classroom, he saw that similar glow in Madam Delacour's daughter. He always thought she looked gorgeous, but he never fell head over heels for her like Ron and every other hot-blooded boy. Which felt strange when his heart throbbed slightly upon seeing her again.

'I wish one day I could meet them again, to thank them...for you.'

'I 'ope you get to meet zem again. I know my muzzer and sister adore you,' Fleur added, snuggling onto his shoulder into the crook of his neck, an invasion of personal space that Harry refused to decline. He'd finally gotten through to her, he wouldn't dare mess it up.

'What about you?' Harry threw, the question innocent in value and intention.

'Why don't you figure out?' She retorted with her hair tickling his neck. Fleur was hiding in his neck so he couldn't see her eyes, he couldn't inspect her intentions, and it unsettled him.

It was a straightforward question with a complicated intent that left little to the imagination when considering the implications. Thoughts that Harry refused to acknowledge because reality was just as spiteful as the outcome should he misinterpret.

'Mind if you trust me for a moment, Fleur?'

She didn't say a word but allowed him to tug her out of the comfortable position she was in and off the desk before guiding her out of the classroom.

Harry retraced his steps, following the sound of music that he'd thought would be the last time he'd hear it.

Eventually, the pair arrived just outside of Slughorn's party, which had died down drastically, the majority of guests have left, and the only students left being: the polite ones, and the ones who were sucking up to the Professor. Unfortunately, Harry was obligated to reside in the middle of that.

'Professor Slug'orns Party?' Fleur asked after releasing his hand and drawing her wand to casting a gentle variation of a the scourgify charm, ridding the tear streaks from her cheeks.

'It's no Yule ball, but it's something,' Harry explained, looking over at her with a half-smile, holding out his arm.

She may not have been dressed for the occasion, nor was she invited, but nothing a little Chosen One charm wouldn't fix.

Harry entered the room, arm in arm with Fleur, which quickly attracted the attention of the remaining guests and Slughorn himself, who dropped his conversation with a seventh year to scurry across the floor to him.

'Oh my! Harry, my boy, have you brought yourself another date?'

'Just found this professor in the hall on the way back from the loo. She looked like she was in desperate need of some fun,'

'Ah. So you are Assistant Professor Delacour. I have heard much about you from Filius, he did mention your circumstance. It is a pleasure to have you, young lady,'

'Please, the pleasure is mine to be accepted here,' Fleur asserted, giving him a curt nod. Harry looked around, into the crowd to check if there were anyone he recognised still here, and even more so, his actual date, Luna. He really wanted the chance to explain to her the circumstance. Though, he was sure a girl like her wouldn't mind.

'Fleur?'

The pair looked over to their right to find Hermione. She placed her champagne glass down on the nearby table and walked over to them. Fleur lit up and opened her arms to embrace the bushy-haired bookworm, which was happily accepted.

He knew they were on good terms as, unlike Harry, she never stopped sending her letters when she could. Plus, she was borderline fluent in French. If there were anyone outside of the trio that she was close friends with, it would be Fleur ahead of girls like Parvati and Ginny.

Harry stood awkwardly at the side, looking around at the ceiling, counting the number of decorations that was set up above them alone.

'I'm sorry we didn't have a lot of moments to talk since you joined the staff,' apologised Hermione, holding each other's arms at length as they parted.

'You would not be you if you did not spend the majority of your time studying, in ze library no less.' The girls shared a laugh, then Hermione looked around Fleur's shoulder to spot Harry for a moment before asking.

'Was Harry snooping around?' Hermione asked with a knowing tone.

' _Je ne peux ni confirmer ni infirmer_ ,' Fleur replied with a small smile, looking away and avoiding eye contact with the bookworm.

'Harry...' Came Hermione with her eyes of judgement.

Feeling the spotlight on him, he knew that there was a grave he dug himself, waiting for him.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed as the three piled into a fun-filled conversation, all be it not for Harry, as Hermione brought up his romantic ventures in his fifth year. As well as talking about how they dealt with Umbridge in the forbidden forest.

The room grew quieter as people left over time. Harry spotted a couple of ladies smacking their dates as they gawked at Fleur, quickly followed by a reluctant dragging out of the room.

During their conversations, they managed their way over to one of the small tables and took a seat, nibbling on the desserts that were still served.

'Wet...was how you described it?' Hermione asked with a grin, twirling a chocolate strawberry on her stick as she waited for the obvious answer.

For an answer, Harry only gave her silence, his cheeks reddening as he popped another bite of his spongecake into his mouth.

The girls shared a laugh once more at his expense. His first kiss wasn't exactly one that he preferred to reflect on, especially since that relationship fell through rather quickly. Ever since, he thought he would put romance in the backseat for the rest of his life, considering his destiny. The last thing he needs is someone else to love, and someone else to lose.

'Why ze down face, 'Arry? Iz just teasing,' Fleur spoke, stopping her giggling, thinking she hit on a sensitive point.

'Do you think it's worth it? Relationships?'

'What do you mean Harry?'

'I'm the Chosen One, just being close to me puts you on the same list Sirius was on...'

With that, the mood of the conversation darkened quickly, Hermione's gleeful expression diving downwards towards disappointment and contemplation, as Fleur looked upon him with kind and sad eyes.

She knew that the reason why he shut out everyone after the conflict in the Department of Mysteries was his godfather's death. Hermione explained this clearly to her over her letters, which played a large part in her joining the Hogwarts staff.

The bookworm stood up from her seat and bent over to whisper something in Fleur's ears, something that Harry didn't bother trying to listen into because he'd fallen into his rabbit hole as he recalled the green streak striking his godfather's chest in traumatising quality.

Afterwards, she approached Harry to bend over and hold him gently with one hand, then lean in to give him a soft kiss on his temple. She departed soon after, heading in the direction for Slughorn, who had been standing before his "collection".

Fleur then stood from her own chair to grab his hand that had been resting on the table. Finally, he broke from his trance with the contact and looked up at her. She was giving him a very gentle smile, neither happy nor sad, but rather comforting and caring.

The music that had been playing faintly in the background was turned up gradually and subtly. It was slow, the kind of song that would be five or six minutes long to prolong the moment, or at least that was what Harry remembered McGonagall saying about the songs at the Yule Ball.

The French witch brushed her thumb over the back of his hand softly, then she pulled on his fingers, tugging, as her eyes asked him the question she refused to communicate properly.

Temptation was what he liked to call it, the feeling that he's been suppressing when it came to most things regarding her. But the way she gazed into his eyes with her bright blue orbs told him something else that he had to double and triple check before he made a mistake.

He looked down as something was at the back of his mind, a voice eerily similar to that of his Godfather, spoke to him. It wasn't unnatural to hear his voice, his memory, so it wasn't something he could ignore.

 _Your father didn't fall in love in a day_...

 _and when he did, it wasn't with her hair or her eyes_...

 _Looks only come so far, look at yours truly_...

 _I know you'll make the right choice one day_...

'The right choice...' Harry mumbled to himself. Then he looked back up at her, flipping his hand over to take hers in his and stood up.

'May I have this dance, milady?' He tried cheekily yet confidently.

With her smile growing to one of joy, she nodded and allowed him for the second time that evening, to guide her. Pacing over to the open wood floor, the dancing lessons came rushing back as he remembered the steps beaten into his memory by his Head of House. Despite being a few years ago, that woman had a way of making the dancing more memorable than her lessons.

He placed his hand on her waist, and they quickly adjusted to the pace of the music. The difference of this dance was the lack of eyes on them. There were none. It was just them, no embarrassment, no one judging and no one glaring daggers at either party.

Not only that, but it felt like gravity was pulling them together, closer than Harry had held Parvati in the opening dance, which felt like a very modest range. Their dance was more for flair than anything else.

This dance, contrastingly, was intimate to say in the least. They had forgone the trained positions they were taught, Fleur's left arm wrapping under Harry's to hold him by his shoulder blade as she rested her cheek on him, while their other arms weren't stiff and outstretched, but rather their fingers were intertwined and lazed.

It was a strange feeling, to have her bosom so visibly and blatantly pressed up against him, but not feel awkward about it. Their connection mattered far too much for such pressure to distract him from her.

For the first time that night, he realised how much taller and larger he was than her. They could look back and notice how much skinnier he was back then, and at equal height as her. Not ideal for a young teenager back then, but he had bigger problems at the time.

Their closeness brought to attention a new fragrance that he never smelt before as her hair tickled his chin. It was sweet but not painfully so, like jasmine...

'Most men cannot 'andle my allure zis close...' Fleur whispered just beneath his ear, her cheek still to his chest 'But you're different...'

'I have a tendency to defy expectations,' Harry joked, taking in a sharp breath as the nervousness was nearly getting to him. Her snuggling into his chest, taking him by surprise briefly.

'Yea...you do...'

He felt like these words were enough to answer the question he asked half an hour ago, not in what was said, but in the way she said it, the way she shamelessly pressed up against him as she did.

'Where is your 'eart, 'Arry?' Asked Fleur, softly, peering up at him, her chin barely touching his.

His heart...He loved his friends, so much so like family. Hermione was his sister, and there wasn't any other way around it. She took care of him in more ways than Molly could fathom. Then there was Ron, he was a bellend and self-centred at times, which rose to wonder why Hermione had feelings for him, but he was a stand up guy when it mattered.

Then there was Sirius, the surrogate father he deserved but had stripped away from him. Despite that, the amount that he's learnt from him, he garnered a new way of thinking, the way of an old-Marauder that he treasured and didn't dare forget.

 _Where is my heart_...Harry repeated in his thoughts.

Cho mattered little to him now that he grew from that experience, only respecting her as a fellow student and as the girl who had Cedric torn from her. Ginny is his best mates sister and thinking about being in a relationship put a sour taste in his mouth, as he wasn't one to take something taken, Dean was his friend too.

Fleur...she was his professor, yet she wasn't. She was a comrade, a survivor, labelled and unrelentingly exceptional. He knew her just as much as he knew himself. She had the beauty of an angel whether she liked it or not, but when you looked past the mask she couldn't take off, to what lies in her heart.

She just wants to be a normal girl.

 _Yet here I am, wanting to be a normal bloke_...he mused internally.

Harry wondered if he was wasting her time, being lost in his own thoughts, his own contemplations. All of which amounted to nothing because he already knew the answer, he just refused to come to terms with it.

What was he waiting for?

He looked down into her bright blue eyes with his own eyes that he inherited from his mother. Their noses touched for a split second, but the contact was enough to send a shock down his back.

Was it permission?

Her face grew closer to him, but with the little space already between them. Harry believed his mind was playing tricks with him as time slowed for him, but he came to realise it wasn't him moving, it wasn't magic, it was her.

His eyelids felt heavier as her lips neared his own, so he allowed them to. Soon, a connection was made, something soft, yet rigid, was pressed against his lips. A feeling so pure that sent his self-control over the edge and proceeded to lean forward to apply his own pressure...his own passion.

All the doubts, all the fears of judgment, gone, in an instant. Leaving only clarity left in his mind.

Moments, seconds, minutes, he didn't care to count how long it took for them to part. All he cared about was the look in Fleur's eyes when his own opened.

He was greeted with not tears this time, but eyes that conveyed happiness in a way he's never seen before. It was him that did this, that brought about those eyes, that smile, that red in her cheeks and that grip on her fingertips.

'With you.'


	4. 3 - Companions (Nymphadora)

**3\. Companions (Nymphadora)**

It was a cold afternoon, the snow was often saved for the evening in these parts, but there was still enough piled on the branches of the trees. There were no more birds, only the sounds of the water in the creek nearby, crashing against the rocks.

Another blue streak shot from the tip of his wand, colliding with the bark of the tree he'd been practising on, but as per usual, the effect was unsatisfactory.

'Again!' Came the woman on his far right. Without hesitation, he obeyed, casting the piercing curse once again. Another blue streak erupted from his wand and slammed into the bark of the tree, sending a few more splinters around.

Underwhelming, for lack of better word. The curse was constructed with the intent to pierce, much like a bullet. The lethality was dependant on the caster's control of the curse, whether they wanted to kill, or just wound without fatalities. Most would argue that was where spells like the disarming charm or stupefying charm would be perfect for, but not for a specific division in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was rarely a time where they would need to combat opponents with classroom spells.

The Chosen One hurled another curse at the tree, and when he was met with mediocre results, he bent over, placing his hands on his knees and breathlessly cursed.

'Bloody hell...'

Non-verbally casting a level 4 offensive curse for half an hour was bound to catch up to him. Magical exertion was nothing new, but failure to control a spell properly could sap more from your core. Which was precisely what he has been doing for the past two days...

'Growing tired on me, are ya?' She chimed, her footsteps closing on him as she trampled on leaves and branches.

Harry raised his head to look over to his companion, her long, raven hair swinging to nearly graze him as she stopped right before him. Pushing himself to straighten his back, he looked at her with tired eyes.

'Did you struggle like this when Moody trained you, Tonks?'

She grinned and replied

'I'll tell you once you get it down.' Tonks walked around him so that she was standing right behind him, out of sight. When he made to follow her with his eyes, she jabbed him in the back with her fingers.

'Eyes forward, I'm not your eye candy,' she teased. Harry rolled his eyes and groaned at her response, as he'd come to grow used to a little quicker than he had initially thought when she arrived.

It had been quite a while since the trio acquired their first Horcrux, the locket. Their luck barely lasted when just two days later, they got into a confrontation with some snatchers.

The last thing the trio expected was for one of the snatchers to suddenly turn on their own, putting an end to the conflict quickly. That individual was none other than Nymphadora Tonks, using her metamorphic abilities to enact unconventional strategies to aid the war effort. An approach, apparently, none other than Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody thought up when he was training her. It was a shame that he died before she could make him proud once more.

With the trio, now a foursome, in the middle of the forest surrounded by the bodies of snatchers, they spent the night coming up with a plan. The plan was to split up: Hermione and Ron take the Horcrux and head North to Glasgow, to search for a way to destroy it with the help of a retired Auror. While Harry and Tonks would stay in Central England to search for the next Horcrux, training him all she knew along the way.

Ron was the first to speak praise for the plan, the Horcrux surely damaging his rationality as he grew uneasy of Harry and Hermione's closeness.

That was a week ago...

'Terbrea!' Harry shouted with a swirl and jab of his wand. At his beckoning, a flash sent a blue streak surging at the tree. The force upon impact didn't just penetrate the tree through and through to the next two trees behind it, it trembled before cracking behind it and falling.

It was results like this that graded the Piercing Curse a level 4A by the Ministry of Magic. The "A" standing for adaptable, as the damage dealt can be manipulated by the caster, from a simple pierce like a needle, to what Harry pulled off.

He felt Tonks peek around his shoulder at the destruction, at which she gave an askew purse of her lips.

'I appreciate you showing off to this lady, but we're practising non-verbal. Now try again.'

Harry hadn't any intent to show off to her, he just wanted to remind himself that he could actually cast the curse because he could feel his self-confidence wavering with every failure.

'You don't have any way to help me out here?' Asked Harry, exhausted.

'How did you learn to non-verbal cast a stunner and disarmer?' Tonks shot back.

'Practice and more practice.' Tonks remained silent with his answer and let him figure out what she was telling him. He raised his wand once again and went back to work.

It was a little painful for her, watching him overexert himself for a curse that would surely make him a threat on the battlefield, should it come to it. He couldn't stand up to death eaters with the spell kit he had, so he needed something, anything to tilt the scales in his favour.

The curse was quicker to cast, faster to travel, and more effective than any other combat spell he knew.

The Auror realised, from standing behind him, the way he had his footing, his movements, all seemed too...patient. Not lazy, or tired, but patient...too patient.

It reminded her of herself...

She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders, getting up from the tree she was leaning on. It was time for her to get into mentor mode.

'Willpower in casting.'

'Pardon?' Harry asked, halting his next cast, not even trying to look over his shoulder.

'Willpower,' she repeated, closing the distance between them 'You treat magic so much like a blessing that you practically ask it to work rather than will it to work yourself.'

It hadn't made a lot of sense, but it did at the same time. Being raised by the Dursley's, where magic was all but despised, to suddenly be set free by it. It was indeed, a blessing to him. He found himself nodding while eying her movements without moving his head.

'It's a bad thing to be too patient, Harry,' Tonks said as she traced his shoulder all the way down his wand arm to his hand with her own. The situation was all too bizarre for him, but he tried his very best to stay focused because she was just beginning to make sense.

At Harry's hand, she pulled it slowly so that it was outstretched and poised, ready to cast. Releasing him, she hovered her hand over his, just mere centimetres away from each other.

'Cast the curse.'

Snapping to attention, he kept his eyes forward as he only now released he was watching her so intently. Following the wand movements, a slight swirl and jab with your palm facing upwards upon finality.

But as he threw the curse out, he touched her hand with his own, something he could only assume was bad in this test.

'Don't touch my hand,' Tonks annunciated. Harry fell back in line and went to cast the spell again, touching her hand once more. When he looked at her, she was stoic, not expressing disappointment or annoyance. Failure in the face of a teacher is the fear of any student, but she didn't display any of the responses that would elicit the fear, alleviating a little pressure off of him.

She clearly wanted him to learn something.

 _I have to make this work. I can't touch, but I can move. I have to will it to work_...Harry thought to himself. He looked up from his wand and straightened his posture once again.

Instead of normally casting with the wand movements alone, he leaned back slightly to give the swirl some distance so that his hand wouldn't touch hers, and jabbed with a follow through, the words "Terbrea" echoing in his mind.

The force alone that erupted from his wand was enough to shock both of them. There was a slight, visible blowback of air when the blue streak flew like a bullet from his wand into the new tree he was aiming at.

Like a miracle, it pierced, through and through. No archaic after effect, or weak splash on the bark. A balanced and clean piercing curse.

'There's more to spell-casting then just words and wand movements,' came Tonks, breaking the silence with a proud smile 'Let's head back.'

* * *

'You're a good teacher,' said Harry, shrugging to shift his coat from its uncomfortable position as they walked the snowy sidewalk down Streatley, a small village by the River Thames in Berkshire.

Tonks selected this town a few days ago because of its insignificance, she was sure that they wouldn't be found here, nor would anyone be searching here.

With the absence of Hermione, and consequentially, her fantastic purse and the camping gear. Tonks and Harry had to look towards more muggle means of lodgings.

'What's this all of a sudden?'

'I've learnt more from you than I ever did from Binn's class,' he joked, sparking a laugh between the two.

'Well if that ghost is your basis for teaching, then that's a problem in itself.'

They stopped right outside a building with a swinging sign above its door. The snow has taken much of the text, so Harry decided to draw his wand to give it quick cleansing charm, revealing the name, The Charred Wanderer, with the words "Inn & Pub" below it.

When Harry holstered his wand, his eyes fell upon his companion, whose hair was in the midst of changing from its raven black to a dirty blonde shade.

Giving him a nod, Harry led the way through the thick inn door, pushing it wide open to hold it open for her as he enters.

'Ah Sarah, James, welcome back. How're you finding Streatley?' The barman called, lowering the volume on the radio by his side on the countertop.

"James" brought his fingers to his eyelids to brush the melting snow and looked towards the barman, who was wiping the inside of a mug with a rag. His thoughts went to how unusual it was that whenever he entered a pub, the bartender was cleaning something or other.

'Wonderfully pleasant as per usual,' "Sarah" came as she tucked her blonde curl over her ear.

'Quiet evening, Stanton?' James asked, helping Sarah out of her coat.

'It's the weather I'm tellin ya,' Stanton went with a chuckle, placing the mug down and walking over to the taps.

'Thank you, sweetie,' Sarah thanked as she adjusted her sleeves, then heading for one of the open booths.

'I'll bring over your usual,' Stanton said, pulling on the lever to fill the first mug.

'Thanks, mate,' James pulled off his own coat before sliding onto the seats across from her. A few moments later, Stanton came by with a wooden beer mug in each hand, filled to the near brim.

When he left, Harry's eyes wandered to the other patrons, some of which were looking towards them, specifically Tonks, creating a sickening feeling in his stomach.

'You'd think I'd get used to people eying my girlfriend?' Harry joked, returning his eyes to hers, which were a shade of grey this time.

'Sounds like someone's enjoying this cover,' teased Tonks, leaning forward with her elbows folded on the table.

'Can't say that I'm not,' Harry shot back with his sorry attempt of a counter-tease.

'How could you not, having such a bombshell for a girl,' Tonks bragged, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. Harry responded with a roll of his eyes and took a swig from his mug. Thanks to his companion sitting in front of him, he grew to enjoy the beverage. Though he made a habit of drinking in moderation, unlike her.

The pair continued to drink and chat about the town, making sure to keep their tongues off of anything magic related. As safe of a place this may appear, the risk wasn't worth it, especially for the Chosen One.

'I struggled more than you when he was teaching me,' Tonks said, placing her mug on the table.

'What?'

'It took people weeks to learn it. You did it in two days. They don't call you the One-who-was-Chosen for nothing, huh?'

Harry scoffed before taking another sip.

Finishing their drinks, and refusing to allow Tonks to get herself hammered, the couple waved at Stanton as they ascended up the staircase to retire to their room.

Closing the door behind them, Harry hung their coats on the hanger in the corner while Tonks ducked into the bathroom. He shed his shirt and tossed it in the basket by the desk, leaving him in only a short-sleeved vest.

He let his back crash against the comforters of the king-sized bed. Harry had only ever stayed at one other inn, The Leaky Cauldron, and he would claim every day of the week that this small village, muggle inn had more comfortable beds than the Cauldron.

Hearing the shower begin to run, Harry groaned and sat up, knowing he'd be alone for a while. He walked over to the desk, pulled his wand out and aimed it at the face.

'Revelio.'

The charm worked like a charm, revealing the parchments and papers that Tonks and Harry had gone over the night before. It was information regarding Malfoy Manor, location, floorplans, assumed security, wards, anything and everything.

The last place they wanted to be was Malfoy Manor, but at the same time, was the place they had to be because they needed to know where the next Horcrux was.

After a night of contemplating, using the information and memories Dumbledore shared with him, they came to the conclusion that it was most likely, Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Tonks was already in possession of this information as it was heavily implied, but unproven that the Malfoy's were still working with the Dark Lord before the war broke out. She was lucky that she kept it with her when she was pulling all-nighters on work.

The plan was elaborate, but involved infiltrating the manor, getting the information they needed, and escaping. Preferably stealthily, but there was always contingency should it not go that way.

'James!' His companion called from the bathroom with the door ajar.

'Yeah?'

'Could you be a dear and grab me a towel?' She asked sweetly. Harry, thinking nothing of it, groaned and walked to the wardrobe. Pulling a fresh towel out, he walked over to the bathroom door, only realising it was ajar as he closed in.

'Here,' he called out, holding the towel out near the open door.

'I'm dripping, could you just come here?'

Harry gulped.

Nearing the door until he stood right in front of the crack, he stuck the towel through with an outstretched arm. Then after unintentionally catching a glimpse of Tonks' hip, swung his head to the left. Feeling the towel leave his fingertips, he retracted his hand and released his breath, only now realising how long he's been holding it.

'Thanks babe,' she teased, elongating each word.

'Unbelievable...' mumbled a defeated Harry Potter, stepping towards the table.

Unfortunately, he wasn't let off that easy as images flashed through the young man's mind, inciting a stomp of frustration. He doesn't have a photographic memory, but he shouldn't, for an accident, have remembered the glossy look of her skin, droplets of water falling down her curves, all from her hip alone. If his eyes ever wandered higher...

 _Slap!_

After decently hard slap across his own face, the stinging brought him back to reality.

Hoping it was enough to get his hormones in check, he pulled the chair from under the desk and took a seat, deciding to go over the contingency plans once more, seeing as it was a productive means of distracting himself.

He wondered about his capabilities in firefights, now that Tonks had aimed to substantially hone his magical and physical prowess. She was tight-lipped about it, but it was clear to him that she was not a normal Auror. Being a student of Mad-Eye Moody, he wouldn't be surprised if she was groomed for something else.

There were rumours that Mad-Eye was part of a separate, secret, more violent and ruthless sector of the Department of Law Enforcement. But rumours were just rumours...

Upon his thoughts, he felt a pair of hands land on his shoulders, the thumbs gently pressing against the back of his neck before descending down. As the arms came to wrap around neck and laze on his chest, the voice of the culprit whispered into his ear, making his hair stand.

'Something stressing you?' Her voice trilled in his ears, making him shiver, but he refused to lose composure. He gritted his teeth and tried his best to not let it get to him. How could he be the chosen one if he falters to something like this he thought.

Harry felt the edge of the towel press against the lower part of the back of his neck. Her bosom blatantly pressing against him that caused both nervousness and pleasure to him, the softness rivalling that of a pillow. A lot of the chat he heard about women we're making more and more sense...

Suddenly, Harry stood, slamming the table with the palms of his hand to push himself up, shocking his companion who had been wrapped around him, forcing her to untangle and back up.

'Tonks...' Harry warned.

'Hey now...' she came, with what sounded like fear. A tone Harry had never heard leave her lips before.

He refused to face her, knowing exactly what he'd see, and the last thing he needs right now is to trip over his words. Keeping his eyes forward at the wallpaper, he continued, with a dark undertone.

'We all have limits. The last thing you want is to make me reach mine,' Harry walked over to the window, his eyes sure to avoid the centre of the room 'I may not be him, but I still have that darkness I get from him...'

The silence hung uncomfortably for a minute or so until Harry finally said

'I'm going to bed.'

Did the teasing go too far? Did he go too far? The mixture of both guilt and confusion made him want to tear his hair out. He couldn't stay mad at someone who's only done right by him, brought light during a dark time. Gave him hope...

When he thought about it, he really couldn't understand why he lost his cool at all. Most boys would be head over heels for a girl like her, more for a girl as flamboyant as her. He wasn't loyal to another girl or anything. Ginny was a mistake was the conclusion he arrived at a long time ago.

With loyalty out of the question, was it embarrassment? He went through six years of Hogwarts as Harry Potter and under Professor Snape. Shame wasn't the issue. Dignity? Pride?

Harry wanted to be strong for others, so to do that he needed to be strong for himself.

He chuckled, recalling his best friend Hermione say something along the lines of "Too noble for your own good". Nobility. The reality of the situation was nobility. Harry often didn't think about it, leaping-without-thinking becoming something of a speciality of his over the years. He felt lost without his best friends' input.

 _Maybe it was for the best. I need to learn to think on my own_...Harry thought.

He turned onto his back, raising his arm from over his head to look up at the ceiling. As he was turning, he caught a glimpse of his companion, who had slipped into the bed while he was thinking. Turning to face her, she had her back to him, at the far end of the King-sized bed, almost at the hanging off the edge.

Watching her like that, slightly curled up at the edge of the bed, trying her best to give him as much space as possible. What he feared more than that was that while he was lost in his own thoughts, she was quietly crying over there, and he didn't even notice. Such a view made him want to curse himself.

 _If guilt was water in a dam_...

Her hair was black, her natural hair colour, and she was wearing her usual nightwear: a tank top and underwear. Nothing abnormal, Harry was sure. Past all the teasing and bubbly attitude, she was still a woman with feelings.

 _And I hurt her_...

He was scared, of being close to someone else. Even more so to have a relationship with anyone at a time like this. Anyone who remotely gives a crap about him ends up on announced on the list on Potterwatch.

 _Is it worth it? Going the distance to push her away?_...

 _Fuck, maybe I'll just find the courage and talk about it_...Harry finally arrived at. He felt immature for not even thinking about talking about it...

'Hey...' Harry called. He knew she wasn't asleep, there was a distinct lack of comfort and unease in her breathing. With the silence coming as a response, he tried again 'Nymphadora...'

'You know you're not the only one who's scared...' she finally croaked 'I still haven't heard anything from my parents...'

Harry scooted over to the middle of the bed and reached over to put his hand on her shoulder. At the contact, she twitched, which made him react and retract it slightly before settling back on her.

He made sure every one of his gestures was soft, slow and gentle. The last thing he wanted was for Tonks to run, not now.

'Come here...' he called softly 'Please.'

Pulling on her shoulder, she came to roll over onto her back then towards him, into his chest. He recovered quickly from the contact and wrapped his arm around her, holding her head to his chest as he felt her tremble.

She cried into his chest, and Harry did his best to comfort and console her. He didn't think he would have hurt her this much, but because he did...

'I'm sorry...I'm sorry...' He apologised over and over, stroking her black hair.

They continued in the tight embrace for a while until her tears stopped, but she never moved to detach from him.

'I was just scared,' Harry confessed 'not of you, but for you.'

Tonks shifted slightly to hear him better.

'I love spending time with you. There isn't anyone else I would want for a companion...' he paused to take a breath 'You teach me so much, you make me smile and laugh...Even as a cover, I can't lie, I love being James Harrison, just as long as you're Sarah Lancaster right there with me.'

Then he pulled away a little bit to brush the bangs off her eyes and looked at her thoughtfully.

'Which is why I'm terrified of even considering doing anything to put you in any more danger than you're already in.' Hoping his words reached her, he relaxed let his head rest on the pillow. 'Plus, it's hard to tell if you feel anything for me with all the teasing.'

'I'm not leading you on...' she mumbled.

'What?'

She rolled forwards into him, pushing him onto his back so that she laid on her side on his chest.

'It's fun and all, teasing you, Harry. But all of this...I don't do for just anyone...' Tonks said, drawing circles on his chest with her free hand while she rested her head on him.

'What are you saying?' Asked Harry, placing his arm around her.

'I may be an Auror, but I'm still a woman...' Then she let her hand lay flat on his chest while she shifted her head to look up at his emerald eyes 'A woman who likes a man...'

Tonks could feel her eyes tearing up gradually, so she looked back down to avoid his eyes that were reflecting beautifully in the moonlight.

Shutting her eyes, she hid in his chest, refusing to allow him to see her in this state.

'Maybe I use teasing to show you...to get that feeling...of not being so...alone...'

It fell quiet between them. Only only subtle movements were their breathing as their chests pushed and pulled from one another. Close enough for their hearts to feel each other beat...

'You don't have to act anymore...' Said Harry, stroking her hair once more.

'If you want me to stop, then I'll stop...' Tonks came, trying her very best to keep her voice from quaking.

Harry chuckled as he craned his head to whisper to her.

'I never said stop.'

Tonks quivered slightly as his warm breath reached her. She looked up at him, her eyes wet, but instead of shining with sadness, was glowing with uncertainty and hope.

'Are you-'

'I think it was wrong of me to think for you...we're both adults, and we can decide what we want for each other,' Harry finalised, only now noticing how wise his words were as they left his mouth.

'You're saying-'

'I'm saying I want to try.'

Tonks' hand curled with his shirt wrapped with it. She couldn't break the eye contact because she felt like if she looked away, it would fade away like a dream...

'After all, I'm just a man who likes a woman. A strong woman whose beauty never wavers no matter what face she chooses or what shade her hair is. I'm just lucky to call that woman my companion too.'

* * *

 **Endnote:** This may be similar to Better than the Yule Ball. Though not completely similar, it has similarities in interactions. But this technically came first as it was an incomplete story in my archive, that I converted into a one-shot.


End file.
